According To Plan
by Fortune Maiden
Summary: For the 2014 Short Story Speedwriting Challenge. After an evening of waiting and setting up contingency plans over a pot of coffee, Hogan receives a very interesting mission report…


_First line originally from "Gone Fishing", by ML Miller Breedlov_

* * *

**According To Plan**

* * *

_After an evening of waiting and setting up contingency plans over a pot of coffee, Colonel Hogan receives a very interesting mission report…_

* * *

_Plop…plop._

All that remained in the metal coffeepot were two measly drops of coffee that couldn't even cover the bottom of the mug. Hogan glared at the offending tin can briefly, before setting it aside and shaking his head. He couldn't be out of coffee already. He'd started with a full pot just—Hogan glanced at his watch—two hours ago!

It was 2355 on a winter night in Germany (for it was always winter, except when it was not). Colonel Robert E. Hogan—"Colonel" to most who knew him—sat with an _empty _cup of coffee in hand, in the radio room of a tunnel that lay underneath a barrack of a POW camp. He was alone, deep in thought with a creased brow and a scowl that seemed out of place on a man who always appeared to have the upper hand in every situation.

Of course, it took great skill to always be one step ahead of an opponent. It took analysis, planning, foreknowledge, charisma and on occasion, some amazingly good luck. It took nights like this, where the great Colonel Hogan was alone with his thoughts, planning scenarios and counter scenarios, for the inevitable disaster report that was due in—he checked his watch again—three minutes.

Give or take a few hours.

It wasn't that Hogan didn't trust his team. Of course he trusted them. He didn't dare send out four men on several dangerous missions in one night if he did have complete faith in their abilities and loyalties. The problem wasn't his men. The problem was everything else: patrols, traps, delays, temptations, forgetfulness (and okay, maybe his men did _slightly_ contribute to those last two).

Hogan trusted his men. Everyone else was another story.

It wasn't a simple mission from the beginning. There was a bridge to bomb, an agent to meet, and a couple of prisoners to deliver to a sub that had supplies for them to pickup. All in one night. Had it been up to Hogan, he would have spread the three assignments over multiple nights, but no, everyone just had to give a compelling and _logical_ argument for why their assignment had to be done on that particular night. It was as if the war was going to end tomorrow!

Left with no choice, Hogan had reluctantly accepted all three jobs and divided the work up accordingly. LeBeau, being the undisputed master of stealth, and the best (and only) French speaker, was to deliver the French prisoners and pick up the supplies (Hogan just had to pray that they weren't freakishly heavy bulletproof vests again…but there was already a plan accounting for the possibility, just in case). Newkirk—as the little old lady—was to meet the agent at the Höfbrau. Hogan wasn't sure if the agent was a man or a women (and he sincerely wished for the former), but the little old lady disguise was meant to keep the skirt-chasing Englishman on track. Nothing motivated Newkirk more than the desire to get out of women's clothing and _not_ have to get back into them again a little later. ("Kills the mood," he said once and never said anything on the matter again. No one asked.)

Hogan didn't suspect the agent's meeting to be a trap. Experience told him that traps liked to meet in secluded areas, and ask for Papa Bear specifically. It must have been less of a hassle for them that way or something. However, he did have several contingency plans to save his little old lady if it came to that.

The bridge job had fallen to Carter and Kinchloe. Originally Newkirk was supposed to go with them and Hogan was supposed to go to the Hofbrau, but after London announced that they absolutely had to transmit a top secret message at 2300 regarding the supplies, it fell to someone to stay behind to wait at the radio. Usually that was Kinch's job, but in a moment of consideration, Hogan had decided that the staff sergeant was due for some fresh air outside the wire and sent him with Carter.

Now with Kinch on the job, there was no reason to worry. He would make sure all of the bombs and detonators were actually set. He would make sure that he and Carter got there and back safely. Carter and his explosives always left room for some worry, but Hogan trusted that the young chemist's bombs would go off when they were supposed to, give or take a few seconds. The most important thing was that they went off during morning roll call, as that was one of four times a day when everyone had a solid alibi. But even if they didn't, Hogan had a plan.

Still Hogan was worried. There were too many things that could go wrong with any one of the three assignments, and there were only so many scenarios and counter scenarios he could think of for each disaster. He really did not like this mission. He liked waiting for the disaster report a lot less. He glanced at his watch again. Thirty seconds to midnight.

In thirty seconds, it would be the designated time for his men to return. In thirty seconds, he would set down his empty mug. In thirty seconds, when no one would show up, he could start his scheduled worrying and—

The sound of the emergency tunnel opening jolted Hogan to attention just as he let go of the cup. He quietly listened as four distinct voices filled the tunnels. He recognized all of them. He glanced at his watched. Exactly midnight.

A cold dread washed over Colonel Hogan as he realized that he hadn't considered this scenario.

His men were _on time_. _**All**_ of them.

Never one to outwardly panic though, Hogan instantly composed himself and went over to the tunnel entrance to greet the returning saboteurs. He quickly took in their appearances. They all looked okay at any rate. Newkirk was in full female attire and wearing the scowl he usually had when in it, mixed in with a touch of eagerness to get out of it. Carter was chatting a mile a minute as Kinch and LeBeau kept trying to get a word in. None of them noticed Hogan until he cleared his throat, at which point they all began talking at once, eager to give their report and go to sleep.

"Alright, alright, one at a time," Hogan ordered, turning to Kinch and mentally bracing himself, "Kinch, how is it on your end?"

"All according to plan, Colonel," the staff sergeant reported with a smile, "Bombs are set. They'll go off at roll call." Hogan stared at him for a moment, letting that information sink in. Surely there was something else to add. Patrol dodging, diversions…ah well, he would get back to that.

"LeBeau?"

"_Tout va bien, mon Colonel,_" the Frenchman replied, "Moreau and Laurent are on the sub on their way to England, and I have the supplies right here." He handed Hogan the small wooden box in his hands. "I did not open it. Did London say what it is?"

Hogan took the package absently. "Yes, I got the message. We'll discuss that later." Now, his mind was on other things. Namely, the lack of complaining and swearing from his men about the difficulties they had faced out there. He turned to Newkirk.

"And you, Frau Newkirk?"

"Watch it Guv'nor," Newkirk warned in a light tone, "Everythin's smashin' on this end too. I met the bloke, 'eard him out, and came straight back. I ran into the others a little ways away from the stump."

Hogan waited a bit to see if Newkirk would add anything, but when he didn't, Hogan just stared in disbelief. Was that all? _Really_? _None_ of them had anything else to add?

"That's it?" he couldn't hide the surprise in his voice. Now all eyes are on him.

"What's the matter Colonel?" Kinch asked concerned. Hogan just shook his head. He was perfectly fine. He wasn't losing it. But _something_ was very off with this report, and he would get to the bottom of it.

Hogan turned to Newkirk accusingly. "Is that _really_ everything, Newkirk? You haven't left anything out, have you?"

"What are you suggesting, Guv?" Newkirk asked affronted.

"Nothing, nothing! But you know Newkirk, this meeting of yours seems to have gone a little too perfectly. Did the agent keep you waiting long? Did he ask too many questions? Is there any chance you were followed back? Do you have any reason to think this may have been a trap? Was he really a man and not a woman in disguise? What about—

"Wait, what was that last one?" Newkirk interrupted, his wide eyes narrowing into slits, "Blimey, you're acting as though I went out for a treat. Frau Newkirkberger happens to be very dedicated to accomplishin' 'er mission in a timely manner, I'll 'ave you know. The Woodcutter was a man, _sir_."

"What about the rest of the questions?" Hogan asked testily, "Newkirk, if something happened, I need to know about it."

"But nothing 'appened," Newkirk threw his hands up, "'E was already there when I came in. 'E knew the recognition code. 'E bought me a beer and we discussed the assignment. By the way, Guv, would you like to know about the _assignment_ yet?"

"Later, go on." The enlisted men exchanged looks. The Colonel was certainly…chatty.

"Okay then, we talked for a bit. _No, he did not ask any questions_—" Hogan closed his mouth. "And then we left together to give the rest of the pub the illusion of a son taking his elderly mother 'ome. We went our separate ways a few blocks later. I assure you, I wasn't followed." Hogan nodded.

"And you're sure this wasn't a trap?" Newkirk didn't even know how to answer that. Seeing the confusion on the men's faces, Hogan elaborated. "I mean, what do we know about this Woodcutter? None of us had ever met him before and none of our usual contacts vouched for him!"

"But we didn't ask them," Carter pointed out. Hogan ignored that.

"Well, Newkirk, what do you think?"

Newkirk thought the Colonel was losing it. He didn't say that though. "I guess that it's always a possibility?" he offered weakly. Hogan seemed to be satisfied by that answer. "Woodcutter secretly a Gestapo agent" had several contingency plans.

Hogan then turned to Kinch and Carter, who had been watching the whole exchange with Newkirk in confusion. Sure it was rare that things went so smoothly, but the Colonel was really overreacting.

"Kinch, Carter how did everything go on your end." Despite always having plenty to say, Carter let Kinch take the lead this time.

"Everything went fine, Colonel," Kinch affirmed, "Carter set everything up and I double-checked that everything was actually connected properly."

"Was it?" If Kinch checked everything over, then Hogan _probably_ had nothing to worry about since he would have definitely found several problems and personally corrected them. But Kinch just nodded.

"Yes, sir," he sighed, "All the detonators were set. All the timers were correct. Carter did a good job."

Hogan's smile froze. _That_...was odd. Even Newkirk and LeBeau agreed.

"Well, miracles do 'appen once in a while," Newkirk teased clapping Carter on the shoulder.

"If Kinch says so, it must be true," LeBeau agreed playfully.

"Hey! I don't mess up _all_ the time," Carter objected.

"We know that Carter," Hogan reassured him, a tad annoyed at how Newkirk and LeBeau were taking this whole bizarre situation so lightly, "But there is a chance that the bombs won't go off, right? There might be a dud mixed in there, right?"

"_Mon Colonel_, are you _sure_ you are feeling okay?"

Carter frowned, deep in thought. "Well if there's only one dud, it shouldn't make much of a difference. The other bombs should still cause enough damage to the bridge to make it unusable."

Hogan considered this carefully. He trusted Carter's knowledge of explosives. Really, he did. If Carter said one dud didn't matter, then one dud didn't matter. But what if there was more than one dud?

Either way though, "Bridge does not blow up" had been taken into consideration, as had early and late detonation.

Only LeBeau remained. Now here Hogan could expect some sort of trouble. Carter, Kinch and Newkirk's tasks had relied almost exclusively on their own actions. LeBeau had had two outsiders to worry about.

As soon as he saw Hogan's hungry-for-trouble eyes on him, LeBeau frowned. "_Mon_ _Colonel_, I already told you, everything went well. Moreau and Laurent were already caught once in the past during an escape, so they knew to be quiet and careful this time."

"What about the sub?"

"What about it? I already gave you the package." Hogan paused. Yes that was true. Hogan then remembered the box in his hands and peered inside. Perhaps the wrong item was delivered? That had been one of his disaster scenarios.

…No, the contents were exactly as described on the radio.

"If something goes wrong en route though…" Hogan muttered to himself, but stopped when he saw the exasperated looks on his men's (and little old lady's) faces. "Why are you fellas looking at me like that?"

"Sir, is it really that hard for you to believe that things went off without a hitch?" Kinch asked cautiously.

"Yes." Hogan responded quickly. Kinch's face fell.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, _sir_," Newkirk grumbled. LeBeau muttered something in French. Even Carter looked peeved.

"Oh stop it, I didn't mean it like that," Hogan snapped, but realizing that he was only making a bizarre situation worse he added in a softer tone, "I trust you guys. If you say everything went according to plan, I believe you. But something may have gone wrong somewhere and we're just not aware of it yet, so I want to cover my bases. By the way, how were the patrols tonight? Any trouble there?"

"No, sir," Carter said, exchanging a nod with Kinch.

"Same," Newkirk sighed.

"Me too," LeBeau added.

"Right. Alright then men, change and go to bed. I'll see you in the morning." Hogan was starting to regret drinking all that coffee now. He really hadn't expected everything to go _that_ well and now he had too much caffeine coursing through him. He'd probably end up thinking up more contingency plans in his sleep as it were.

As Hogan disappeared into the tunnel, Newkirk, LeBeau, Carter and Kinch finally let the breaths they were holding.

"What the bloody hell was that about?" Newkirk hissed quietly.

"Boy, I'm so confused right now." Carter shook his head.

"_Incroyable_, he acted as if we'd never had things go so well before." LeBeau scowled.

"I know we usually have a few hiccups here and there, but that was ridiculous," Kinch agreed.

"Don't you start too, Kinch," Newkirk groaned, "We've done plenty of missions where things went right the first time around. Don't you remember that time when we…no, wait that one had that one issue…Oh there was that other time when we…no, that's no good either…" An odd look crossed Newkirk's face. "We _did_ have _one_ assignment where everything absolutely perfect, didn't we?"

"Of course!" Carter exclaimed but there was already a troubled look on his face. "I can't think of any at the moment, but I know we've had them."

"I agree," LeBeau also was suddenly unsure, "Kinch, can you think of any?" Kinch was their last hope. He had to have _something_.

"Well it'd be a little ridiculous if a successful sabotage unit like ours never had even one simple assignment go our way from beginning to end, wouldn't it?" Kinch's smile was shaky. Their last hope died out like a candle in the wind. A sense of despair filled the tunnel, and nothing had even gone wrong yet!

"Gee," Carter muttered ominously, "Maybe Colonel Hogan was onto something after all."

The others just nodded.

* * *

The next morning, an explosion went off in the distance just as Klink shouted "Report", just as it was supposed to.

Colonel Hogan, off of his caffeine rush and thinking less negatively, simply smirked at a job well done. Beside him, Newkirk, LeBeau, Carter and Kinch looked as frightened and confused as the Germans.

Hogan gave them an odd look.

It wasn't as if things had never gone according to plan before.

* * *

**Thanks for Reading. I hope this was okay :)**

**I wanted to write a story like this for a while, because, while it's obvious that if things always went right there would be no story, it was always a little funny to me how it seemed that no scheme (both in the show and our fics) _ever_ went off without a hiccup or two. Plus a slightly caffeine-crazed Hogan is really fun to write.**


End file.
